


Meant To Be: A Hatter and Hare Origin Story (Hatter's POV)

by darlingdeathbird



Series: Meant To Be: A Hatter and Hare Origin Story (working title) [1]
Category: Adventures In Wonderland (TV 1992)
Genre: How They Met, M/M, Origin Story, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29701926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdeathbird/pseuds/darlingdeathbird
Summary: I have had this idea in my head for a long time, about Hatter being a student who frequents a cafe where Hare works, and that's where they first see each other. Hare's in a rut, and Hatter's a bright shining beacon. They're instantly drawn to each other, spiritually, creatively, and maybe romantically, too... but what will it take, and how long will it take for them both to figure that out? This is Hatter's POV. There is a separate work in Hare's POV.
Relationships: Mad Hatter/March Hare (Alice in Wonderland)
Series: Meant To Be: A Hatter and Hare Origin Story (working title) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182812
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Window Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a collection. The story is in both their perspectives. To read Hare's perspective, click on the series link, where it will be listed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatter's head feels like it's going underwater... but a cute bunny man sells him treats and it kind of helps.

The day that Hatter first saw Hare was by no means the first day that he gave him any thought at all. There was _enough_ on his plate as it was, so ruminating on the dark-haired bunny fellow, with cute flopping ears and all that, who was running about his cafe of choice, was simply impractical. Rumination of any kind, really.

He really _had_ to live in the present at all times now because life was feeling like a goshdarn treadmill lately. Really, it _was!_

Two years prior, he had been accepted into Wonderland Institute of Arts (WIA), and the future seemed bright (back when he could think of the future)... Yes, life could now be a bounty of creative adventures, with like-minded people. He’d buy new socks and other accessories that really spoke to how nifty of a character he was, he’d be invited to _all_ the parties, meet his future wife doing study abroad probably, and then he would be part of a merry group skipping off into the sunset...

“You just wait, wait until junior year, and you will not be coasting by anymore,” said the critics of his upbeat outlook. Mostly that was his sister, Gladys, but sometimes other classmates, ones who apparently thought there was a limit on how whimsical one could be at an art school. “You’re either serious about this or you’re not!”

Pfff. Of course. Like come on; he wasn’t just going to art school because he wanted to blow off any kind of actual adulting. No way, not at all. Sheesh. “I know what I’m getting into,” he would say. He just had had a failing imagination about the prospect. Nothing had _ever_ been this hard before. Hundreds of pages of reading every week, seminars, group projects, and blah blah blah… on top of a growing pressure to _network_ … or something… Networking was getting very interesting lately, and not at all related to art. More on that later.

Treadmill treadmill treadmill… At some point, after going through the motions, he’d get more _in shape_ for this. That was his hope. For the time being, he was awfully sleepy.

He and a few of his friends had gotten into a habit of frequenting the cafes in the vicinity of the institute. It was all the rave, to be heavily into coffee if you were an artist, and to know which specific kind you liked, and to whiff the “bouquets” and make judgements upon them as if they were all fine wines. His friends were so good at doing this, and basically circle-jerking about their collective knowledge of coffees, that nobody seemed to notice Hatter was just agreeing with them, and that his opinions were all fictional.

His favorite visits, however, were the ones he made alone, to a little place on the corner of Inkwood and Woeberry St. This place had the perfect study nook, and a pile of throw pillows. The fluffy, girly kind, which he secretly liked. Like, a lot. Oh, they were so soft. His friends wouldn’t have understood.

This cafe was never too bright, the music was never too loud, and they had the most treats. He loved just staring at them as he walked by, smelling all the smells, choosing a latte syrup… Oh yes… this cafe was like a multi-sensory instagram page for foodies…

And it made a lot more sense to nap here than his house, to be frank. If places were movie genres, his house was Action, and this cafe was… idk, ASMR Rom-com. If he could, he’d rent the place out. It was a long ride home on his bike, and sometimes he didn’t want to make the trips back and forth. There was certainly better food, here.

& & &

The boys wanted a bite, once their morning classes got out, so there they were at the Woeberry St. cafe, drooling over the menus and splurging on fancy drinks. This was how artists lived! He had to practice! Though… nobody was really taking accountability for the less glamorous parts.

“Nobody got that answer right. I’m sure of it-- Hatter, what did you say you got again? A 57%?” His buddy Terrance asked, almost into his ear at the packed table.

“Mhm,” he answered.

“See, nobody passed.”

An arm with a coffee pot reached in to pour Dylan a cup, which Hatter didn’t initially find interesting, but at some point he looked up and just happened to meet eyes with a familiar face. Ah, that guy… Dark Haired Floppy Ears. He was looking right at him and smiled, so he smiled back. It’d never happened before. He seemed really happy about something. Hatter was glad he was having a good day.

“I mean if I had _just_ got 70%, I wouldn't be retaking it, and I think I should have,” Garvis bitched. “He worded it confusingly and there wasn’t even time to cover all my bases... throw out anything that would have _stuck_.”

“Right, right,” the whole table agreed.

“Yeah. I also thought it was confusing,” Hatter said after everyone else had gone quiet. Granted, he’d only studied for half an hour before Pops almost set the house on fire.

Honestly, he thought he deserved the 57%, and that might have been why, when his group was soon to leave, he lingered in front of the counter to stare at the abundance of treats. Medieval Art History was in an hour, and they were all swinging their scarves back around their necks, having worked out their grievances about the recent test that they would share with the professor... but Hatter tagged behind. Something inside him felt really rotten lately, but it wasn’t clear what. Maybe a croissant would help. It wasn’t the scary blonde working the register this time; it was Dark Haired Floppy Ears. It seemed safe over there.

Terrance was almost Hatter’s height and equally polished, clean-shaven, and fresh-faced. Actually, he was a year younger than him, and ever so eager to undergo a particular rite of passage, if you catch my drift. He brushed Hatter’s arm on his way out, and Hatter smiled at him nervously before he crouched towards the case.

Now then, did he _really_ want a croissant, when there were also macaroons? Ooo, and chocolate tarts. Those would surely fill the hole in him. Nah, maybe the bear-claw! YUM! This place didn’t leave a man wanting -- there was the appropriate amount of syrups and sprinkles and nuts on these items. What would he pick… what would he pick…

“Uh, just looking. Never looked before,” he muttered, once he knew he was being watched. This was blatantly false, but whatever.

“By all means,” Floppy Ears told him. “Have a look. Look as much as you want.” He hadn’t actually heard his voice before. It was molasses thick and sweet.

“I _am_ looking…” Hatter replied, “and I want most of it.” _How True That Was._

The most amazing laugh came out of the bunny’s mouth afterward, like a Christmas elf having a tickle fit. It brought Hatter’s attention to him immediately. “W-Well you can have it,” he assured him, looking straight into Hatter’s bright blue eyes. His own were glossy and dark, like coffee beans. Chocolate chips? Hatter was even hungrier now. “I mean… you have to _buy_ it,” he corrected himself, leaning in, as if he knew him already. He had a very welcoming, generous demeanor. Hatter bet he was everybody’s mom-friend.

But now he felt he should hurry… he’d hovered around enough… _Oh, he just couldn’t choose!_

“Uh, you should try one of these _apple_ _turnovers_. They’re delicious!” Christmas Bunny told him. Thank God he was getting help in the matter.

“Oh, I didn’t even _see_ those!” He said. Quick! _Where the hell were they?!_ _Ah, there they were_. Golly, they looked good, all glossy on top with butter… honey… both? A few little apple cubes dotted with cinnamon were even squirting out the corner.

“I mean, just as a suggestion, i-if you wanted inside information about, a-about the best stuff around here, ‘cause I’ve tried all of it…”

Hatter trusted him already. “I’ll take one of those. Actually, make it two.”

“Really? I-if there was something else you had your eye on--”

“There was, but I’ll try it next time. Gimme two of these turnovers.” Hatter had a feeling that if he chose what he picked, he might actually feel better. “Please,” he remembered to tag on, as Christmas Bunny seemed in a hurry to please him, when he didn’t want him to feel rushed, or demanded from. He worked hard enough; he’d seen it.

“Coming right up, sir!” He exclaimed to Hatter, not unlike a British paper boy. Hatter felt like he was being talked _up_ to, and didn’t like the feeling, not at all. In no time, he’d probably be working at a cafe too, if he didn’t figure out his shit.

It’d probably seem casual if he flung his arm up on top of the case, so he did so, and let the following roll off his tongue with equal nonchalance: “Oh please, call me Hatter. Family name. Uh, profession. Name? Profession?” He tipped his hat, and Christmas Bunny seemed astonished for some reason. Maybe he’d never met a hatter in person before. “To _whom_ do I owe the pleasure?”

While he almost dropped the turnovers into the case bottom, Christmas Bunny seemed to give it some thought. “Oh, uh…” Meanwhile, Hatter fixated on the hair curling around his neck as it brushed into the collar of his shirt in this position. He wondered what bunny folk’s hair felt like. He had gone to school with some as a kid, but they weren’t allowed to grab each other’s ears, obviously. “You can call me… Hare.”

Hare placed the bag next to Hatter’s arm and smiled with a face full of dimples, and his lower lip swallowed by his front teeth. “Family name. Uh, species? Species and name, and definitely not a profession… that I’m aware of.”

He giggled again and Hatter was just… floored that this would be someone’s real laugh. He should have heard it before around here -- it was the kind of laugh that ANNOUNCED a person was in the room -- but he hadn’t.

Hatter chuckled. This guy was… _somethin’._

“I’ll remember that,” he told him, because he totally would. He dug through his pocket for change, having to swat past his pocket watch in the process. Oh, right! Time! _Time_ was a _thing_ , and _he_ had a _class_.

And after two years, he was still getting lost on campus. He fixed up his coat. Gotta get out, gotta _go go go_ … The Hare apparently had a bad relationship with the cash register. “Well, gotta run. Thanks!” He told him.

He smiled all the way to class, munching on his Now Turnover, and tucking his Later Turnover into his bag. What a charming, strange creature, who definitely seemed to belong inside that ASMR Rom-Com cafe…


	2. Presently Pleased by Pastries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatter has a strange need to talk to the bunny.

The boys wanted breakfast at “the cafe on Inkwood” again, and Hatter was all for it. Although he preferred to say it was on Woeberry. This place was poppin’ this time, and for good reason! They served Dream Waffles here… and a mouth-watering Monte Cristo. Did he want a waffle or a sandwich? They drizzled syrup on both…

He heard a voice that was equally syruppy and looked over to see the Hare trying to sweep up broken glass in the back end of the dining area, as a lady stood nearby, rocking her crying baby in her arms and trying to stay out of the way. He sounded like he was reassuring her, with just a bit of perspiration on his temple. It was a warm Spring day, and he still ran around in a button-down and a bowtie: that was probably why. She still looked relieved that he was there. Hatter smiled to the ground and followed his group to his table.

The subject of conversation today was all the hot girls who’d signed up for the drama production that Garvis was in, which was great and all, and Hatter would have been all about it usually, but admittedly... he was a bit distracted.

He saw the Hare around _a lot_ this time. He looked _extremely_ cheery for someone who was here, there, and everywhere, sweeping, perspiring, and trying to keep up with the rush. Maybe Hatter imagined it, but it also looked like he was sort of… strutting. He’d make an interesting model for a painting, that was for darn sure.

Then he was pouring coffee for Kelly with his eyes half closed and his neck stretched to one side. He didn’t seem to notice Hatter, and for all of it, Kelly paid _him_ no mind, as he was busy complaining about the sad state of his dating plight. He was definitely a more… uh… rugged… sort of artist type. But did Hare not _see_ that Hatter was there, too?

“They want the pretty boys. Hatter, _you_ should try out,” Kelly grumbled.

“Hatter doesn’t know what to do with girls,” Stewart pointed out.

Suddenly Hare looked up and straight at him.

“Well we all know why that is,” Terrance said under his breath. Hatter had started to wave at Hare with a toothy smile, and thought it was quite cute and silly that Hare waved back by jiggling the pot… but then he was pretty sure he felt his thigh being brushed under the table.

“Oh I know why they like the pretty boys!” Hatter’s statement could be mistaken for a yelp, it was so sudden and alarmed.

“Why is that, Hatter?” Terrance asked him, smiling… coyly.

“Heheheheh, _well._ I mean it’s easy… They… remind them of themselves. That’s what every girl wants, you know. Or, I’ve heard it once… anyway…”

“So what, every girl’s a lesbian?” Pretty much all of Hatter’s table-mates except for Terrance were pleasantly swept away by the erotic imagery this idea sprung into their minds… but he had to go and ruin it.

“Well okay, that’s a bit _extreme_ , but… is _anyone_ _ **actually**_ straight?” He wondered.

“Yes,” came several times in response. Garvis just patted Hatter’s arm and smiled knowingly. Terrance was still brushing his leg under the table.

& & &

He knew he should be studying this weekend. Absolutely, he must, and on the outside it would appear that Terrance was steering him in the right direction. “You’ll be over to study this weekend… right?”

“That I will! I will be there. Definitely. For certain. I _need_ to study!” Hatter made perfectly clear.

Terrance just held him by the shoulders and grinned, having both his attraction and his pity aroused. “Okay, Hatter. I’ll take your word for it?” Hatter’s heightened nerves must have been obvious. He didn’t know what to say, either, which Terrance found adorable as he bit his lip. “See you later, then.” He patted Hatter on the arm and took off.

Hatter felt flushed, so he went to the boy’s room and took a nice, long piss -- taking deep breaths while he was there (because everybody meditated in front of a urinal, right?)

On his way out, he caught the Hare all by himself behind the counter. He looked like his bubble had finally been popped, though, so Hatter wasn’t sure if it was the right time to speak up. Hare must have caught him in the corner of his eye, because he looked up from the tarts he was decorating and flinched. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Oh no, please, _**I’m**_ sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…! Uh, uhh---Those look _so_ good!”

“They’re okay,” Hare trailed. Hatter was amused that his apparent fatigue had stirred such candor in him. He sauntered up and showed him one, too.

“Well they could fool me. That is _artistry_ right there,” Hatter told him, which made Hare chuckle with surprising warmth.

“I think you’re the only artist between us.”

“How could you tell?!” He wondered, still trying to figure out why it felt like they knew each other already. Then he felt a tug and glanced over when he realized he’d caught a woman’s scarf on his sketchbook. In fact, it had seriously plucked it out of shape, as it was one of those delicate crocheted types… probably a gift… probably custom… _oh, he’d_ _ **really**_ _fucked it up!_ “I am _so_ sorry! I am so, so sorry!”

The young lady was cute, too, but quickly losing her patience the more he bungled it up, probably because his gloves were affecting his dexterity. She huffed as she sorted through the yarn herself. Now _how_ had it gotten _so_ stuck?

Once she was finally free, the chaos ceased, and Hatter watched her walk away. She _really_ was a cute lady. Then he turned back to Hare, who had only been staring. Another sorry fell from his mouth. _Think, Hatter! There’s still time to_ _ **not**_ _be wasting anybody’s time! Say something interesting!_ “A-a-actually, this is my sketchbook! I don’t make tarts, but-- well, so--”

Oh shit, it was the scary blonde. “ _Hi_ , can I get you anything?” Oh boy. She must have known he was a time-waster… and this felt like something his sister would do to make a point of that. “Go ahead and finish; I’ve got this,” she told Hare, followed by some muttering, which he thought included the phrase _“take your lunch”..._

It was automatic: Hatter became just the troll you’d expect of a younger brother, knowing the Hare might notice. He wanted to make him laugh. It _was_ the weekend, anyway, so when he started rambling about needing treats for all of his highly allergic family members, he only needed to be half kidding. _Sure, I’ll get Gladys a donut. And Pops one of those bear claws…_ And his mother, she didn’t like much sugar… but maybe he’d get her one of those cheesy bagels…

“You know, it really depends if there’s any xanthan gum in it, though. Can you check? I hate to be a _pest.._.”

“Oh no, you’re not a pest at all.”

“ _Thanks_. Yeah, it’s one of those things… that took my Mom forever to realize gave her heartburn. Funny, isn’t it? The things that people end up being allergic to.”

“Sounds more like a sensitivity. And no, there’s no xanthan gum...”

“That’s… that’s fairly possible. I’ll take one of those. Oh and the maple bar with the bacon, for _sure_. _Who_ doesn’t love _bacon_? _How_ is something not _improved_ … with **bacon** on top?!” Hatter felt quite satisfied when he caught the dimples rising in the side of Hare’s face. “Now are these _all_ made here, are these--?”

“No, not all of them, but they’re all from local companies.”

“Mmmm, mmm, okay. Local. That’s the way to do it. I feel a clear conscience, bringing my business here,” Hatter went on. Hare was definitely listening, with a giant smile that was hard to hide as he headed for the back with a stack of tart boxes all the way up to the bottom of his chin. “Well I tried these apple guys right here: they were,” and he did a chef’s kiss, “just fantabulous.”

“Those are made here.”

“Oh, are they?! I bet that fine fellow made ‘em.” He pointed to where Hare had been.

The scary blonde laughed. “No. He did not make them,” was all she said.

"You should give him a raise; I bet he _could_ ,” Hatter told her as he handed over a few wobucks, checking to see where he had gone at precisely the second that he peered at him from around the threshold. Looked like a timeclock was back there.

“Here you go, sir! Have a great day!”

“Gee, thanks so much…” Hatter had a gaping smile just for her but wasn’t sure what the hell he was feeling a second later. He was definitely about to be late for class. He stuffed the treats into his messenger bag and checked his pocket watch. Oh yeah, fifteen minutes to _sprint_ like a mad man down ten blocks, and across some campus lawns.

And he was just about to do that when he caught the Hare at a little table not far from the study nook, which stood inside a perfect box of sunlight. He was taking out a lunchbox with some charms on the zipper, and a muffin.

It was instinct: he just walked over before he could think about it. When he said hello, it startled him a little. Poor guy just probably wanted to eat. “I just wanted to say -- and I was going to say it earlier, it’s just I was interrupted-- that those turnovers were _superb_.”

Well, actually… he looked really happy they were talking. “Oh, I’m so glad!” He said, always so warm. It was a shame there was class. Maybe they could have sat together. But there _was_ , _oh_ there was _..._

“Mhm, yeah so--” HE WOULD BE SO LATE. “That’s all I wanted to say, and sorry for interrupting your lunch.” It didn’t feel quite right to slap his shoulder, so he slapped a chair like a real champ and jetted out the door.


	3. Sugar High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatter makes up a lot of excuses to get sweets from the cafe where the bunny is working.

Was it emotional eating? Yes. Was it also some unnamed force that made him feel all warm and fuzzy like glitter was exploding inside him? Yes, it was also that. He tended not to question what he liked, nor avoid it. He liked coming to the counter, picking something to ease his anxiety, and talk to the Hare, or at least share friendly glances with each other. As far as he was concerned, they were friends. Sometimes just seeing him made him feel like _sure, he’ll be fine._ This is all so silly, life! Life is a silly mess. The Hare was always dropping things and fumbling around, but cheery anyway, and it just… was… a delight. He didn’t know.

Then he brought him a broken tart one day and then just disappeared. He was so flattered! And faintly wondering if the Hare had a crush on him…

But FUCK IF MIDTERMS WEREN’T GOING TO SWALLOW HIM WHOLE, LIKE A WHALE IN THE OCEAN OF ACADEMICS.

“GLADYSSSSSS!” He screeched into the pay-phone.

“Hi?” She answered, knowing her brother was the only one who’d start a phone-call like that.

“Can I crash dinner tonight? I haven’t had a meal practically all week, _halppp_ , feed meeeee…”

“Uhh…”

“Also, can you look over my paper? My paper outline. It’s a disaster. I know it has to be. My thoughts are _good_ , but they’re not organized!”

“That, they are not. Sure, come over, but you better have donuts.”

“Are you for serious?”

“No. Don’t bring over any more donuts.”

“Okay good because--”

“ _Yes,_ bring donuts! Tit for tat, brother!”

“Wow.”

Gladys laughed. “I should be the one ‘wow’ing. You’ve just asked for dinner _and_ tutoring, free of charge.”

“I’m your brother!”

“That should be a _double_ charge.” Hatter turned his face up to the sky and shook his head, an action which she seemed to envision without any help. She chuckled. “Well, _should_ I be expecting y--”

“ _YES_ , I’m coming.”

& & &

Technically speaking, the cafe on Woeberry was not the closest cafe with donuts. He could have picked them up at a few other places that he knew about… but you know… it didn’t really occur to him until he’d pulled up with his bike in front of the place and he thought “gee… I feel like I was just here.”

Once he saw Hare, even through the windows, there was a pep in his step, however exhausted it may have been. _There’s my buddy… who doesn’t hang out with me… yet! But we’re_ _ **totally**_ _friends!_

He went straight to the counter and tried to make faces at him until he noticed. He was trying to pick out the donuts, too, because yes… he needed donuts… he wasn’t just there trying to distract the cafe’s employees. _“THANK. YOU. FOR. THE. TART._ ” he mimed, as it was awfully noisy at the moment, and a lot was going on. “Yeah, my pops can’t have anything with walnuts,” he switched gears. “As long as there are no _walnuts_ in it,” he made super clear to the highly inept hostess, aptly named Karen. She was reading the ingredients for him, for something he wasn’t even going to buy, and Hare was behind her, frozen and trying to make out what he was saying. _“IT. WAS. DELICIOUS.”_

He must have figured it out. He smiled and flashed all his dimples at Hatter, but the scary blonde was also right next to him, whipping up drinks at the espresso machine, and he seemed to be nervous about it. It must have been a _secret_ gift, that tart! Hatter did two thumbs up. He loved secrets!

But now their conversation was no longer a secret, because Karen didn’t know what he was thumbs-upping about until she turned around and Hare started laughing. There was also smoke coming out of the toaster behind him.

Well shit, he really _did_ distract him. Poor fellow was getting a tongue-lash. Hatter felt like it was his fault. He grinned, probably like a complete doofus, which he knew he could be, and backed out the door. _Wait a minute_. He looked into the bag. There was only one donut. He hadn’t even remembered the transaction. Had he stolen it? No no no no no…. Not possible.

& & &

It took a lot of convincing to get Gladys not to think he was being stingy and passive-aggressive when he showed up at her house with one nutty donut in a paper bag. She’d made a delicious Shepard’s Pie and green bean casserole, with dinner biscuits and everything… Great biscuits… Biscuits from where?! Mom’s cooking was only so-so. But he must have had at least four of them, and might have also been stuffing food in his mouth whenever enough of a silence crept on… very much because he could see Gladys thinking about how he had arrived with _one nutty donut in a paper bag_. He _also_ was confused about it.

At least his nephew Beanie didn’t care. He was in his high-chair, laughing every time Hatter looked at him, and screaming when he pretended like he was going to grab him. This kid was fun. He was also making a complete mess and had mashed potatoes across his cheeks.

He liked his sister’s house. It was… homely. Definitely smaller, as there were only two people and a toddler living here, but with most of the usual Hatter zaniness. As much to which her husband would acquiesce. Gladys sculpted her own decorations, and every room had an extremely different wallpaper - yes, all very different “personalities” of rooms.

The parlor was all velvet, plum, and wood, with ceramic candle dishes and… baskets. Gladys loved her baskets. Everything in their bedroom had to be white. There were a lot of things filled with glass pebbles, especially the bathroom, which had bright turquoise walls and a Picat-so shower curtain. The dining room they were all sitting in brought to mind a porch in New Mexico, with a rug on the wall, glossy tile art, and brightly painted wooden chairs. Like her family members, she never thought to hire anybody else to do something for her if it was related to the arts. In her mind, the house looked fantastic, and not at all incohesive.

She had everything, really. Except plants: killed every single one she had ever owned.

Hatter smiled as she wiped the potatoes off Beanie’s face. Forget the plants. This child would still be cultured and stylish. And his mother was not just a sculptor, interior designer, and a part time hatter… She made _shoes_ , to boot!

She looked over and caught Hatter smiling at Beanie, and had only one thing to say: “Are you sure you don’t ever want to babysit?”

“Hahahahahahaa-aabbsolutely nottttt~!~!!” Was Hatter’s cheery answer.

“Well I don’t know, it looked like you had baby fever for a second, there!”

“You’re killing me, sis.”

Hatter’s brother-in-law, meanwhile, loved to watch them give each other a hard time, so he didn’t say anything. Entertainment, these hatters were. He was never bored (and the food was good, too.)

& & &

“Okay, so what is it? _Lady fever_?” She asked later, when it was just the two of them, brother and sister, in the parlor… sipping wine. Hatter had been enjoying it a lot more than her.

“Excuuuse me?” He drawled indignantly. It had definitely loosened him up, too. He was down on a floor cushion, even, to stretch his long dancer’s legs.

“Well _what else_ is the answer to this?” She took a bite out of the donut, then tossed it back on a plate, chewing with an indeterminable expression. Hatter blinked a lot before he had something to say.

“Well, do you _like_ it?”

“Are you going to keep dodging my questions?”

“How is it dodging to ask if you like it?!”

“Well if you pile it on to everything else you’ve been doing that has all seemed like dodging… You’re pretty good at it, too. But not good enough. You were stupid enough to come to my house.”

“WOWWWWWW.” Hatter _could not believe_ how he was being treated! Actually, yes he could. He would have been very surprised, actually, if Gladys had been any other way. But he still wanted to act shocked.

“If you just tell me there was a cute girl at the donut shop, I’ll leave you alone. I don’t even need to know about her. I don’t _care_. You have enough crushes.”

“Oh, pffffffffffffffft. That’s not true at allllllll.”

“Okayyyyyyyy. If you say sooooooo.”

“I doooooooooooooo! Okay, you know what it is, is my friend works there. There! That’s it! Isn’t that a fascinating story!”

“Why didn’t you just say so?!” Hatter opened his mouth without even knowing how he was going to answer that one. Luckily, he was afforded a very long moment to be tongue-tied, as they heard thuds from upstairs, over there heads, where Daddy and Beanie must have been playing. “It’s a guy?” Gladys clarified.

“U-huhhhh….” Hatter trailed. Very, very slowly, one of Gladys’ eyebrows began to sift up her forehead, as this was a suspicious confirmation he had just given her. She was very effective with this look, too, as all the Hatters had strong eyebrows, and hers were no different. And her eyes were a deeper blue, like their father’s. And her hair, not a strawberry blonde, but a much richer, rusty red.

“Alright! Well I am _so sorry_ for the accusation…!” She took forever to say to him, never breaking eye contact.

“You _should_ be sorry!”

“Whip this paper out!”

Hatter missed a beat, but stammered: “I will!”

She had many an upper hand over him. A solid gaze just like their father: check. Knowing exactly where all the photos were stored of his naked baby-butt: check. And being his older sister of seven years, she had spent most of her years being taller than him, too: looking down on him, watching over him, and occasionally breathing down his neck. So even though he had shot up like a weed, a feeling still carried on of being _at her mercy_. He wouldn’t admit that, though. Brothers never would.

His hands reached into his messenger bag in slow motion after this… fumbling blindly as he squinted off in space.

“Good,” she said after a long enough pause it really wasn’t necessary anymore.

And then they had a fascinating conversation about Baroque paintings for two hours.  
  


& & &

Baroque. Baroque baroque baroque baroque. BaroooooooooOOOOque. BAAArrrRRRRRRoque. The word no longer made sense, now that he had said it so many times. It was going to be a bad paper. It reeeeally was. And all through Theory of Mediums, whatever the class was called. Uh, seminar. Right, he was a fancy Junior now, taking seminars at 10am. What was he saying?

Oh yes: all through the seminar he was looking over the paper, without having had any caffeine, to boot. He secretly drank tea every morning, though his friends thought he always had coffee... but the _cupboards were bare!_ And he’d broken the French press. And there was no coffee machine in the house right now because it was hooked up to a mystery creation that Pops wouldn’t talk about. _No tea! No coffee!_ Not until he was out of ~~class~~ seminar!

He checked his wallet. Wow, all he had was a wobuck.

DRIP COFFEE FROM THE CAFETERIA, IT WAS! FREE WITH A STUDENT CARD!

Bleeeeghh. By no means had he become a coffee snob, but this was “just okay” even to non-coffee-snobs.

There was a dull pain growing in the back of his eyes, too. He couldn’t go on like this! His speech was at 3’o’clock! IF HE WASN’T PEPPY, HE’D PROBABLY FAIL. He needed cookies. It was just a pure fact that he needed cookies, and that was the main reason that he went out of his way to the cafe on Woeberry St.

Definitely the main reason, but luckily he could also check on his silly floppy-eared Christmas giggle friend. He needed to be checked up on, frankly.

“Excuse me, sir… I’m gonna need one of _everything_?”

He wasn’t even working; he was just slumped over the counter with his chin in his palm, sighing. Hatter being there seemed to animate him, but he looked all around, warily… Hatter looked, too. No blonds in the vicinity… besides him...

They both stepped towards each other at the same time. “U-u-u-uh so, wh-did you say you need one of _everything_?” Boy did he wish he did. They could have _quite_ a conversation! As a natural side effect to him buying a week’s worth of fabulous treats, he meant. Hare was on board for this: he was going to MAKE IT HAPPEN, so Hatter had to stop him, to both their disappointment.

“Oh I was kidding, but-but ummm, actually, I need… What I need is…”

A cookie, probably. Right?

“I… would like…” Hatter started again. But if he asked for a cookie, and bought the cookie, and left with the cookie, this would all be ended prematurely. “Well, I mean… _what_ do you recommend?” He flashed up the palms of his hands and swished, as if to say _I. Just. Don’t. Knooowwww!_ It bought more time, not to know.

Hare seemed suspicious. “Are you sure you want something?” When he laughed, Hatter did nothing to save himself. He _was_ being teased, but he liked it. “You know… Mr. Hatter… you can just say hello to me,” Hare said, all dry and matter-of-fact, a bit cheeky even. His cheeks were too round for him to have been so cheeky! “You don’t have to buy anything! You don’t have to buy my conversation!”

Hatter laughed, as he was not expecting this side to him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I-- _maybe_ _that’s what I thought!_ But I didn’t-...” He took a moment to recalibrate, when he recognized that a wave of vague attraction had just swept over him, fleeting as it was. “Hi,” he finally said.

“Hi,” Hare said back, very smiley. Seemed like he might have had a crush on Hatter. Oh, right, and he’d wondered that before.

“How is your day?” He asked.

“It’s… I don’t know!” They both laughed. “I-It’s fine, it’s fine!” Hare answered, though it hadn’t slipped Hatter’s mind that he’d looked exhausted and listless only a minute ago. “How about yours?”

“ _Ohhh,_ it’s great…” He lied, being very seasoned on how to make his misery into a punchline. “Woke up at four in the morning, wrote a whole paper that’s due later today, complete with bibliography, broke my French press-- well it’s not _mine_ ; it’s my sister’s that she gave to me. I mean you’d think _how would somebody break it_ , but I… I did.” He was waiting for Hare to laugh at him, but all he did was stare, lips parted, not even aware of how far his teeth were sticking out of his mouth. He was too busy being worried. Well, Hatter should finish what he started, he thought: “Then I went to class, and now here I am.”

“I shudder to think what a _bad_ day looks like for you.”

_Well damnnn, now he thinks you want him to be worried about you._

“Oh, there are no bad days,” Hatter assured him. “Only bad attitudes!” And if he said it enough, it’d be true!

“Hm, okay. You sound like my mother.”

“Oh, I thought I sounded like _my_ mother.”

 _Somebody_ needed to say all this stuff. Or it really _would_ occur to him that his day was crap, and that just couldn’t happen yet! He’d have his meltdown after his last class got out, like every responsible student was doing!

“Maybe mothers just say those things...” Hare mused, but he still looked worried.

“And you gotta listen to them,” Hatter reminded him.

“Hehe, yes!” Oh, good. He _did_ think some of it was funny. “But… well, _I_ wouldn’t be bothered if you told me your day was… heh… _not_ -so-great. I know mine could… be better...”

Hatter did not know what to say, for a moment. Maybe he kind of wished they actually _did_ have the history it felt like they had, despite having met only a couple weeks ago. Then he _could_ divulge him in all the things bothering him lately. And then maybe Hare would do that to him, and he’d feel needed. He liked feeling needed, like he’d made someone’s day better, cheered them up, come to the rescue. Lately, he just felt like an accessory. Even to Terrance, who had very graciously been… well yeah, _anyway_ _._

Wow. He just spaced out. “H-Hey, chin up. You’ll be out of here soon, right?” He finally said.

“3 o’clock.”

“I’ll be in class by then,” he thought he should tell him.

“Oh…” And it was probably completely useless information.

_Quick, Hatter. Jump back to the cookie! It’s not premature anymore!_

“U-u-uh, I will actually take a cookie, though. It looks _too good_ to pass up. Mhm. Yep. Chocolate chip. Right there.”

When there couldn’t be real friends around, there could be cookies. At least one cookie, because he did have one wobuck. Hare packed a giggle or two into the bag with the cookie, before he said: “you know, if you have a _real_ snack you won’t just be surviving school on a sugar high.”

Such a mom friend, packing him the best cookies, and not laughing at his misery…

“Oh thanks, Mom,” he said, tossing him that single wobuck. Good thing he didn’t take the bus or he would be _fucked_. When Hare smiled, Hatter made sure to steal a bite as he looked at him, then winked. “See you later.”

“Bye…” He heard, said sheepishly to his back.


	4. Thirsty Like a Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatter gets caught up in the whirlwind of midterms, not realizing he has been missed.

The same day, Friday:

“Many artists have many passions… Passions far and wide, variety and contrast, complexity, or maybe simplicity,” Hatter pontificated to the classroom of fifty or so students, all still in a state of lukewarm reception. “I like to think that I’m one of those artists who pulls complexity _out of_ simplicity. And just… _sits with_ the very basics of a design, for longer than most people do. I-I-I mean if you think of _art_ as a _pizza_ … And although I enjoy like a trillion toppings on my actual pizzas… On my _art_ pizzas…” Hatter went on, not even aware that everyone was squinting. _Especially_ the teacher. “I only pick out a few. Because I want to make sure people can really _taste_ them. Just to be clear, though: I don’t want anyone licking my artwork.”

& & &

He thought the speech had gone okay. It was definitely a lot more interesting than a lot of other people’s speeches. He found them hard to follow. They jumped around to different subjects. _His_ was like one… long… insightful… paragraph.

And he was sure to impress Mr. Oliver with his midterm portfolio. It was practically all done. He flew down the stairs of the studio and strode confidently to Spiral Street, where his instructor’s office was. Even at school, he almost hit a lot of people with his giant sketchbook.

Mr. Oliver did a lot of “hmm”ing… He said everything was “very nice”... “Great use of color… You _do_ have an eye for color…” Hatter sat in the flimsy chair across from his desk with his hands cupped in his lap, waiting for better feedback. If he could just greenlight this, he’d have one less thing to worry about this week, the week of his midterms.

“Mr. Hatter…”

“Hm?”

“You have true talent, which is always evident in your sketches and your assignments.”

“Oh. No no no, I’m still learning,” he tried to be modest.

“It’s just… Well, I’m not sure how to say this. Most of your artwork is of hats.”

Hatter blinked twice as much as usual as he thought about it. “Yes… that _is_ probably a _very_ true statement,” he concurred.

“Have you ever considered _changing_ your major to something more appropriate? Fashion Design, perhaps?”

“Well I _did_ , but I didn’t want to make a commitment to just one type of art. I was hoping I could… incorporate hats into… well, everything! You know, I’ve often asked myself why there aren’t any hat-shaped buildings, or hat-themed venues, any hat-patterned accessories… scarves… baby-blankets… Hat murals…”

Mr. Oliver didn’t know what to say, apparently, which was very alienating for Hatter. He thought they were all such great ideas.

“Well, see, _there’s_ something. Draw a venue that you envision. You learned perspective, right?”

“Mhm… I sure did…” He actually couldn’t remember how all of that stuff worked, but you fake it ‘till you make it, right?! It’s the only way to ever get a job, Pops would say: pretend you’re qualified… until, one day, you are!

“Well there you go. For your portfolio, I would scale back on the hats, and… show us what you’re _really_ capable of. Elaborate on this big dream, of… hat everything…” Mr. Oliver swiped his hand between them like he was painting a rainbow, with a nebulous sort of enthusiasm for Hatter. Perhaps he didn’t know what he was talking about.

Yeah, he’d stick with hats.

Maybe if there was _time_ he’d draw a bowling alley that was hat-themed, but COME ON: HE ALREADY KNEW THERE WOULDN’T BE.

& & &

Saturday

“Popssss, I have to study!”

“I know, I know, I know! Just hold up that shield for thirty more seconds, and we’ll know if this thing is going to explode when it’s at full temperature. I have to know if I should write that into the warning label!” Pops had a machine that could/should/might be able to zap eggs inside the carton into perfect hard-boiled status. If it didn’t work, Hatter was about to go up against a wall of yolk.

“Pops, if I don’t study, I’m going to flunk Medieval Art History! And all my other art histories!” He gripped the shield but his feet were unprotected. Pops was too busy turning the dial all the way to 100 to hear him. I mean _really_ hear him. Maybe all of the hair that had gotten displaced inside his ears was affecting his hearing.

“Son, you know _plenty_ about art.” Hatter scrunched together his brow, which was quite comparable to his father’s in terms of heaviness and fuzziness.

“That’s not how college works. This is stuff I don’t know! That I have to know! Whether or not I care to know!”

“Having breakfast prepared is what we have to know. Your mom isn’t going to feed us anymore.”

“No kidding.”

“This’ll put bread on the table, too. I-I mean it’ll make the other kind of bread. The dough.”

“Pops…” The ever louder buzzing that Hatter heard emanating from the heat generator was concerning him.

“No, not actual dough. MONEY.”

“POPS!”

_ **PFPFFHGHGHGHFFHUTHAUHJFFFFFFFF.** _

“Oh no… your mother’s going to ground me,” his Pops said. “She can’t know this was all my idea! Tell her you _egged_ me on!”

Hatter let down the shield and set it calmly on a nearby table, while his father bubbled and cackled and had to take off his goggles just so he could wipe away a tear. Hatter, meanwhile, was trying to glide out the workshop door with yolk between his toes.

& & &

Sunday

The day he _really_ needed to do what he had said yesterday was so important. What he had _really insisted_ to everybody in the house was imperative to his success. But then at eleven in the morning, his mother went straight to practice her bassoon, and then do aerobics downstairs to peppy music that shook the entire house, and then Pops was shaking the entire house, down in his workshop, so he really didn’t notice or care that his wife was being so disruptive. The only one who noticed was Hatter! Peace and quiet usually didn’t matter to him, but when there were MIDTERMS it did!

& & &

Monday

He hadn’t slept. The idea came to him to buy some canned iced coffee and then forge a _real_ intimate relationship with his textbooks _all night long_. The kind that would even be too scandalous to tell anyone about.

But he just about blasted out of his socks when Terrance stopped with him at the steps of the Clementine Building after getting out of their morning class. He hadn’t known he wasn’t alone, and the first thing he felt were his hands slapping onto his shoulders. “Hey, Hatter! Do you feel like you’re ready to take that Theory of Mediums exam, or do you still need my... help?”

“AHHHHH!” Hatter screeched again, although he had already made it known that he was surprised the first time that he screeched.

“That sounds like you do!”

“I am definitely not ready but I _cannot_ come over because I _really do_ have to study!”

“Well, we could actually study this time. And then if we behave, and… you’re not ready to go home…” Hatter was already jerking his head back and forth to convey how deeply he knew that this was an impossibility.

“I don’t trust my dick enough for that. Sorry.”

Terrance sighed. “I guess I understand. I don’t really trust my dick around you either.” He laughed, so Hatter figured he should laugh too, but he really just wanted to cry. Get down into the fetal position at Terrance’s feet and CRY LIKE A TODDLER HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL MELTDOWN.

& & &

Tuesday

All the way to campus, on his bike, pumping and pumping, he worried about how much he’d be able to retain while he was looking over his highly disorganized notes in the student lounge. He also thought about how much he wanted a cookie to calm his nerves. He’d had chocolate from the corner store, but it wasn’t the same as a big… fat... goopy… chocolate chip cookie from the cafe on Woeberry St. Those cookies made a hatter feel taken care of. Bubbly, kind Christmas bunnies gave him _those_ cookies. He wondered about his silly friend Hare. But then he started riding crooked and almost got pummelled by an actual cyclist who wasn’t having none of his shitttt.

& & &

Wednesday and Thursday

LIKE A WAR SCENE WHERE EVERYBODY HAS TO SAVE SOMEBODY ELSE’S PRIVATES! BUT HE HAD TO SAVE HIS OWN. These exams really were a kick in the cajoles. He didn’t even want to _talk about it!_

“Hey! We’re going out to eat! To celebrate all this shit almost being over,” Garvis caught him and said, as Hatter was attempting to drag his sorry ass and bicycle out onto the busy street so he could roll home with his tail between his legs.

“Where are you guys going?”

“Javaphilia.”

“I’ll pass.” Garvis cocked his eyebrow, which Hatter knew was because Javaphila was _his_ favorite of all the places in the area. There were cute baristas there. Hatter couldn’t let any of them see him like this!

“Suit yourself.”

& & &

Friday

He never did get around to sketching that bowling alley, but he did turn in a packed portfolio that morning, and _you know?!_ That’d just have to be good enough for Mr. Oliverrrrr, with his conceited mustache and pants without pleats in them. Why did Hatter have to have so much of his dream down on paper, anyway?! Was Mr. Oliver going to steal it from him?! He already had a cousin who did that.

He didn’t really remember when he’d made this decision, but his legs carried him all ten blocks to the cafe on Woeberry St. Although, he had to make sure he had money in his pockets first.

 _Ugh_ … thank goodness, his pal the Hare was working there today. He always felt good about himself, around him. Like, actually good. He was perhaps too eager to interact with him because he marched right up to the counter, leaned forward, and tried for his attention when he was probably busy-- _definitely busy--_ well shit. He dropped a whole thing of milk on the floor.

He looked panicked, too, and Hatter felt like he was responsible.

“Here here here, let me help!” He rushed behind the counter and yanked at the paper towel machine, starting to feel dramatic, but it was too late! He _had_ to help Hare and it had to be fast!

“I’m such a numbskull!” He heard him say as they shuffled about; swiping all around; arms stretching past, over, and beneath each other.

“No you’re not!” Hatter told him.

“Oh God! Quick, hide!” When Hare got to his feet, he knew he had to stay put, so he curled down really low, knowing his hat might stick out.

“ _I’m sorry! Am I going to get you in trouble?!”_ When he looked up at him, Hare’s features softened. It was enough to make him know that no matter what happened, Hare wouldn’t be mad at him.

“ _No no!”_ He was still on the lookout, so Hatter tried his best to stay quiet unless spoken to. “ _I haven’t seen you all week,”_ Hare told him.

“ _Midterms!”_ Hatter replied. _“It was awful!”_ The way Hare froze up, Hatter was worried enough to place his hand over his mouth. Then he felt hands on his back, trying to urge him out of his hiding place.

“Get out, get out! She’s not looking, get out!”

Hatter shot to his feet! Ah! He’d roll over the countertop! Problem solved!

The scary blonde appeared, which got the Hare straight into Part 2 of their shenanigan.

“Can I get you something, sir?!”

This was fun!

“ _Yeeeesssss_ , you can! Thank you for your _very_ prompt service! LET ME JUST HAVE A LOOK AROUND!” If he talked louder, it would look like what he was saying was even more truthful.

 _Fun, fun shenanigans!_ He thought as he scanned the case. With no real interest in the items, come to think of it… If anything, he was busy noting how his playful pal had cradled his other hand, and rescinded to the back counter for a towel hanging over a sink faucet. Then he watched the scary blonde talking to him, glancing once or twice in Hatters direction.

Hare’s expression went from distressed to flabbergasted. Then he nodded and made his way back to him. They were alone again. Hare wasn’t hurt, was he? Hatter thought about asking before he was presented himself with a question: “Did you know they think you stole a donut?” All of his focus had been on Hare’s hand wrapped in that damp towel, but then...

“ _Oh shit,”_ he whispered. He looked Hare right in the eye and tilted even closer. _“I-I didn’t mean to, I-- they gave it to me, and, and-!”_ It had all happened so fast!

“ _I believe you!”_

  
_“It wasn’t even good!”_ Shit, now everything about Gladys’ suspicions were creeping back into the forefront of his mind. Hatter covered his mouth.

“ _Well if you didn’t even like the donut, you should have a refund! Get a different donut!”_

“Really?!” Bless this Christmas bunny’s kind and jolly little heart!

“Yes!”

“Well wait a minute, I can’t get a refund if I stole it. _Even though I did_ _ **not**_ _mean to steal it!”_

“ _It’s on the house, is what it is! I’ll get you a different donut, and you pay for that one, and then it will be like if you had paid for the bad donut,”_ Hare explained, the wheels all turning behind his chocolate chip eyes. He really _was_ sort of cute. And Hatter liked his holographic tennies. “And then I let you have a better donut free of charge.” Yeah sure, he’d do whatever he said.

UWAAAA, or whatever the scary blonde said, who was suddenly there?!!! What was she, a sorceress? A succubus?! It felt that his life hung in these two’s hands for a second there. “March! Can you put the order away again? We need someone _like you_ to do it.”

Hatter really didn’t like the way she said it. It just didn’t _sound_ nice. But the Hare was gone before he could even say goodbye.

& & &

Now that he was back to normal amounts of anxiety and suffering, Hatter realized he was a little sad about what had happened. He supposed he believed that Hare would be happier to see him, but if he was able to walk off so carelessly, maybe he really didn’t need to see him at all. It could have been that Hatter mistook his friendliness as a cafe barista/host/baker (whatever he was?) for _real_ friendliness, which he had done before. He had also mistook friendliness for romantic interest once. Boy had that embarrassed him.

The Hare didn’t help him the next time he came in.

Which was fine, _totally_ fine. He’d take cookies from anybody.

But then the _next next_ time, he also didn’t help him. He smiled and then just went on his way.

Which was also fine, _totally_ fine. Hatter was totally willing to admit when he was wrong, and had read somebody wrong. This cheeky, wild-haired bunny with cute holographic tennies had a million things to do, and who even knew what his real life was like. Probably also busy. He looked active, like an outdoorsy type, which Hatter totally was not, although if he asked him on a hike he would go anyway.

The third time this happened, Hatter had to empty his pockets to find out if he had enough for the pastries he said he’d pick up for Pops. He was starting to regret getting everybody addicted. He set aside a folded paper that had also been in his pocket as he counted his wobucks hastily. While he was there, he probably just should have thrown it away: it was some guy’s number who sometimes caught him all breathless and frantic on his way to his first class, and who was definitely too old for him. Thirty, probably. He’d helped Hatter pump air back into his bike tires once, and Hatter had shown him his sketchbook, which was all fine and dandy -- in fact, Hatter had thought it had all been so very wholesome until this offering. Now he felt, psh... _fetishized_.

Maybe it was shallow, but he just wanted to be around cute, younger folk like himself.

There went Hare again, and a little dimple popped in his face when he saw Hatter. He wondered who he went hiking with, if he _did_ hike.

 _I should exercise more_ , he thought… then it vaguely sounded like his name was being _screamed_ behind his back, somewhere in the crowd. Oh! He was outside now… after thinking so much… lost in his head. When he turned around, Hare just about ran into him.

“You… _hghgh…_ _dropped this_ ,” he gasped, holding out a folded paper. For a split second, he _legit_ didn’t even remember it, it was _sooooo_ meaningless to him. But the fact that Hare returned it to him anyway… was… making… him… feel… guilty? Confused and wistful, too?

“ _O-Ohhh…_ _you_ are the kindest…” He didn’t need to know the paper he had lost his breath over was trash. Hatter put it in his pocket as he observed what a mess he had become. Such a pitiful, silly mess, this clutzy bunny of the ASMR rom-com cafe… He laughed, because wow, he was just staring. “How are you doing? Is everything okay?” He _really_ wanted to know.

“Of course it is! Yeah it’s fantastic! How are you?!”

“Equally fantastic!” He parroted mindlessly. Sure, he was!

“That’s great! Uhmm…! Well, I’m on the clock so I really should get back. They don’t know I followed you and I’ll probably get in trouble.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” Hatter told him, trying to pretend that _he_ was a mom-friend. When Hare chuckled, Hatter remembered that nothing had to be serious: life was absurd! He’d make the stupid joke he had in his head! “Make sure you’re clocked out next time you follow me.”

This really got his goat! It got every goat he’d ever had; in fact, Hare was stammering. _Sheesh,_ Hatter thought. _Put that giggle away or I’m literally going to get diabetes right now._ “I-I-I mean that would never happen anyway.” Of course, it wouldn’t! That’s why it was such a good joke! “You’re in class when I get out. I-I mean, I _think_ I _faintly_ remember you saying you were in class at three…!”

The Hare kept up with all his sweet blabbering-- but _okay_ , since they were going to get into the logistics of it: “Only on Wednesdays and Fridays,” Hatter specified, smiling as he did so.

“Oh.” This stopped him in his tracks.

“Yeah. I don’t have class until five on my other days. Big chunk of time there.” So like, now Hare could know that there actually _was_ a time when this funny fantasy was possible. OR what usually happened could happen: “Sometimes I… come in for a nap.” Judging by Hare’s clueless expression, neither of them knew where this was going anymore.

“M-maybe I’ll see you. You know, when you’re here, napping…” This Hare looked like he hadn’t found the joke that funny after all. “Uh… I have to get back!” Hatter snapped out of the strange feeling he was having.

“Oh, of course! Hurry!!!” He told him! _Run along, little bunny!_ And he did, just nearly knocking over an elderly couple who had come out the cafe door. Silly bunny and his wild hair, nervous, silly, fidgety… cheeky, but also shy? A party-bag of _things_. Although he was not very good at saying goodbye. Hatter would be nice and find the word for him: “Well-.”

“Do you want to hang out one of those times?” He asked suddenly.

_Who-da-what?!_

“Absolutely!”

_Wait, hold up._

Hare looked back inside the building, and seemed troubled when he met eyes with Hatter again. Had they just--?! “Let’s talk about it later!”

Right, of course. _Let’s. Let’s let’s let’s. Let’s this, let’s that. Let’s keep let’sing. Tomorrow we can let’s._ So for now, he had to shoo the Hare off, who _did_ want to follow him after all, so it really was _necessary_ to shoo him!

“Yeah yeah, get back in there!”

“I’m going!” Hare snapped back, before giggles consumed him. Hatter was equally consumed.


	5. Chili-Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatter has an unnamed crisis about Hare's age before he's distracted by hot-dogs.

Hatter knew that he had to be careful, next time he entered the cafe looking for that clutzy, silly Hare. That Hare-friend of his, who was always dropping things, or _almost_ dropping things, at the very least giggling about it, running, rushing, perspiring, all dapper with that bowtie. He liked his brand of chaotic-dapper.

But yes, yes, he musn’t sneak up on him, so he didn’t enter the cafe until the coast was clear, that day, just two days after they had made a plan to "let's". He tip-toed to the study nook when Hare had gone to clean a table. He set himself up with the pillows. He cracked upon his textbook with a fleeting hope he may concentrate on it, and he waited. One of the waitresses passed by to greet him, wispy and aloof (and also blonde... so many blondes around here…) so he decided a nice hot caffeinated beverage would be good. It’d bump up his energy levels so that if his plan went as intended he would be ready!

“Yes, and _two_ shots of espresso please! I need to be ‘perked’! That’s what my mom says sometimes: ‘perked’. ‘We’ve all gotta be perked for later, so have some tea, son. Er, coffee.” They actually drank tea at home, mostly, but he was going to train himself to prefer coffee.

The Hare passed by in a flash, down by the other end of the cafe. He was charging to the back, nose-first, with a tray of plates and cups -- _on a mission, it would seem!_ And he’d noticed Hatter… he thought.

“Oh! Can I trouble you to do me a small favor? Can you tell the Hare I said hello?”

The waitress seemed surprised. “March?”

“Well, there’s only one hare around, so that must be him,” Hatter replied. She nodded and walked away, whilst Hatter had a thought: _March? Like the month? The one they’d just had… last month?! March. March Hare. Hahahahah._ He had a passing thought that the Hare was possibly embarrassed about this, informed by the knowledge that if _he himself_ were named after a month, he might hesitate to say so to acquaintances. _Well then! He’d save it for just the right moment, and see his reaction!_

In the meantime! _Pat pat_. He had to keep these pillows nice and packed all around him. Oh, it felt so good! He looked up to Hare peering out from the back hall, and felt quite proud of his pillow situation when Hare flashed a toothy grin at him.

In no time, he was bringing him his latte! In fashionable slow-motion, too! When this latte did reach him, it was going to be great! And when Hare did also reach him, it was going to be twice as great! “Hi!!!” The bunny boomed.

“G’day!”

“I have--” He stumbled just a bit before the both of them realized his shoe was coming untied. “I have something for you!”

“I can see that!”

Luckily, he managed to set it on the stool that Hatter had dragged next to him, though he spilled a bit on his hand suddenly.

“Oop! You okay there, buddy?”

“I’m so sorry!” He was a’bustle trying to fix the matter, when Hatter decided he’d just sip the drink until it was less at risk of spilling down the brim. My, was it delicious! As scary as Hare’s boss might have been, she did make a killer latte! Hare had been hovering around him with napkins that he’d grabbed off a nearby table, but Hatter just looked him in the eye as his lips parted the brim of the cup, quite pleased.

“Still delicious!” He informed him. He took the napkins gratefully, feeling warm, and satisfied, cared for, and certain. This would be a good time to ask. “Hey, what are you doing at three today?”

The Hare was just about to shuffle off when his entire face lit up. “Nothing. What are _you_ doing at three today?”

“Also nothing!”

“Well if you want, we could--” _Do the thing we were talking about!_

“We _could_!” _Yes, we could, and--!_

“We _should_ ,” Hatter told him.

“I’m all for it!” Hare was scrunched up and dimply about it, which Hatter found amusing. He was very easy to excite! And, dare he say, Hatter was also excited! He whipped out his pocket watch and took a glance.

“I’ll study for the next forty-eight minutes!” He declared.

“Sounds good! You get that studying in.” It was quite funny, the way he tried to walk off, with attitude, and managed to trip on his shoe-lace instead! Hatter watched him mutter and bend down, trying to suppress his amusement.

_Studying! For forty-eight minutes! T’was more important than laughing at every single thing the Hare did! Even if it_ _**was** _ _funnier than the way anybody else did it!_

& & &

Hatter partook in some very poor and scattered studying for the next forty-eight minutes. Not on purpose, he was just on cloud nine! Pure and straight cloud nine! Like a dog about to go out for a walk!

And he wondered, as the clock ticked closer and closer to three, when he should start readying himself to go! When the time did come, it was very satisfying to put his coat on! By 2:58, he was already by the door, just simply watching the bunny rush around, trying to wrap up unfinished projects.

“I’ve almost got it! Be right there!” Hare assured him, so visibly worried that he was droppin’ the ball, here! In truth, he was sort of fun to watch when he was freaking out.

“Hmph-hmph, take your time,” Hatter answered. He disappeared into the back, so Hatter strolled back and forth, past the front windows of the cafe. The town was fresh and clear after yesterday’s torrential downpour. Now, the sun fought with the clouds, and managed to poke through in charming splashes of gold which made the blotchy streets and dripping plants all sparkle.  
  


Hare emerged with all of his stuff and _a true sense of immediacy_ while Hatter was appreciating all of this -- and opened the door for him, even! _Wow!_

“Soooo! What are we doing?!” He asked, buzzed. As if he, too, had had two shots of espresso while he was back there!

“I don’t know!” Hatter told him, knowing at the very least that caffeine was definitely coursing through _his_ veins!

“Let’s just walk around. Let’s go to the park! Gosh, that was a crazy rain yesterday!”

“Tell me about it! I forgot my umbrella, too. I mean _what Wonderlandian_ lugs their umbrella around?!”

“I have one,” Hare informed him. “It’s suuuuuper compact. Would fit in a pocket.” _Wow, fascinating!_ He did look like the kind that was super prepared, as if everything was in that bag of his. Quite opposite to himself. He never had what he needed when he needed it.

“See, mine is enormous,” he told him, as were many things that he owned. “Used to be my grandpa’s. Has the family’s crest on it and everything.”

“Your family has a crest?!”

“We do!”

He looked surprised. Gosh, this was an easy conversation! A lot of people said his thoughts bounced around, but the two of them seemed to be playing a good ‘ole game of catch.

Before Hatter knew it, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He told him all kinds of things, as if he needed to crash-course him! A lot of his belongings were hand-me-downs! Including his five-story house that had been built by his great-great grandfather! The Hatters built, and created, designed, and passed it all along! They had crests, and emblems, brands, and secret hand-shakes! It really was remarkable how well they stayed a’float, doing nothing but free-lancing and talking themselves up, for generations!

The Hare should know all of this. It would make him impressed.

“Anyway, we had just enough money to send me off to school, so I’m trying not to blow it _. Trying_ being the key word, here.” Hatter stopped to catch his breath and make sure Hare was still interested. He was smiling, _so hopefully and probably!_

“Oh, you’re probably doing just _fiiiine_ ,” he told him. _Uh oh. Maybe he’d built himself up a little_ _ **too**_ _much._

“Now I’m afraid to tell you the truth!” _That he had all C’s._ He tilted closer to Hare’s bobbing ears to divulge him in a secret he was harboring: “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but _college is hard!_ ”

“Y-Yes I know that,” the Hare informed him. “I’ve been to college. In fact, I have three minors.” Hatter felt like he had been slapped between the eyes, or stuck his foot in his mouth suddenly. But wait a minute:

“Minors? You don’t have any… majors?” Hare went quiet for a moment.

“Welll, you know,” he started, beginning to glance at Hatter, but changing his mind about it. “I was kind of all over the place as a student…” He muttered to the ground.

“You already went to school,” Hatter said to himself aloud, not sure why he had never considered this. It hadn’t appeared that he was a student, right now, in the present, but… well… Hatter had grown to forget that there was a past, or future, as the present was so very demanding of him these past few months!

 _Ah, there was a past!_ Yes! And Hare had been a student in that past. He had been what Hatter was now. So then, now, he was even more than that, definitely and truly. But not a lot more. Just a little bit more, was Hatter’s guess. Probably just a little bit older than him, was his general suspicion all along. Mysteriously, Hatter felt too unnerved to ask, and Hare somehow noticed that!

“What?” He wondered. _Oh shit, he may have been one of those emotionalllll psychicsssss, just like Gladysssss!_

“Oh nothing. I was gonna ask something silly.”

“What?” He pressed.

Hatter tried and failed for it to come out super casual, instead of nosy: “Well! I was just wondering how old you were.”

“Well how old do you _think_ I am?” This time, this Christmas bunny being cheeky was making Hatter nervous!

“I don’t know… 23?” That sounded good and fair, to him, but Hare exploded with his tickle-fit giggles. “Oh, wow, I must be _**totally**_ off!” And now he was getting nervous to discover what the actual number was going to be! “25?” He dared to ask. Hare just shook his head and set his bag down, so he could put on his windbreaker. Bright orange, like a traffic cone. “26?” Hatter tried again, but he was _still_ shaking his head. “Oh, come on, you’re killing me. You’re older than 26?” Hatter kept going. “Are you 27? 28? 29? You’re _not_ 30.” This conversation was disheartening him.

“No, I’m not,” Hare reassured him. “...28.” Hatter forced himself to laugh. “I know. Pretty damn old to be the coffee bitch at a place like that.”

“Oh, _no no no no no no_ … That’s **not** what I was thinking.” Truly, it wasn’t! He was just a little afraid… that they wouldn’t have enough in common to be friends. Maybe all of Hatter’s woes and troubles and triumphs would seem small to Hare. Or maybe he’d have to try and seem a lot more responsible, and organized, and mature than he actually was.

Well, they’d reached the Town Commons and were surrounded by food, now, and food was universal! And he was starving, come to think of it. All surrounding a vast brick circle with ever-descending steps were food carts galore, and snacking, smiling faces.

“Hey, do you want to get like a hot-dog or something? I was saving my appetite and now I’m looking at everything getting _so_ hungry!”

Hare only missed a beat before he realized he was hungry too. “Y-yes! I-I… would _love_ a hot-dog… Is there a hot-dog place?” Hatter suddenly went back to feeling excited again.

“Oh, yeah! It’s there!” He pointed. He knew it was! “And I _never_ get to go.”

“Oh, why not?”

As they headed in its direction, Hatter told him the sad truth of the matter: that his friends thought food like that was too messy. At least, for artists. But he wasn’t always great about fitting in. “One time I went alone, and they happened to be walking by and saw me just… scarfing it by myself on that bench over there.” He twirled his finger around in some sort of direction where a bench might have been sitting. _Oh,_ _ **where**_ _had it gone?!_ For some reason, he felt he should locate the bench! To add credibility to his story! Oh, whatever, he couldn’t find it. Maybe he’d imagined it was a bench, and it was just these steps where everybody else was sitting. “I-I-I mean I try _not_ to be, but I-I-I _was_ kind of embarrassed…” He trailed.

“Hey! There’s nothin’ embarrassing about enjoying a good ‘dog!” Hare told him, smiling up to him. _This really should have been true, and bless this bunny’s heart for saying it!_ Maybe they could be friends after all! If for no other reason than that they needed someone to go and get a good ‘dog with!

And so they pranced up to the cart, with their hungry gazes all over the menu. _Food sure was great! Food made everything okay! Thank goodness there are so many foods to choose! Maybe_ _ **too many!**_

“Actually, those chili-cheese fries look good,” Hare pointed out, to Hatter’s angst.

“Oh shit!” Hatter shouted. “But they’re eight wobucks.”

“I’ve got eight wobucks.” Well, Hatter only had five, so he could not order it too! He sighed, when suddenly he heard. “We can _share_ it.” He looked down to Hare, right into his big, brown, chocolate chip eyes.

“Oh,” he realized. The last time he’d shared anything, it was grapes, with Terrance. He had wanted to put them in his mouth _for_ Hatter.

“What, did you think I was going to order them for myself and make you watch?” _Stop thinking of Terrance, you fool_. He felt so exponentially more comfortable this time around, sharing a much messier food with a much less familiar individual. But he felt like he knew him, so he didn’t protest when the cheeky bunny declared with confidence: “We’ll take the chili-cheese fries, please.” Maybe having an older friend, who was a lot like a mom-friend, was a good idea. He kept Hatter fed and helped him out of food-related dilemmas. “Anything else?” He asked Hatter.

“I-I would still like a hot-dog, too, actually,” he told Hare sheepishly.

“Two hot-dogs!” As it seemed he was done ordering, Hatter fumbled around for his wallet as Hare seemed to materialize their payment out of nowhere!

“Wait wait wait!”

“It’s on me!”

“Are you sure?!”

“Let me treat you!” Hare insisted. He gave his arm a jiggle and Hatter was beside himself for a second. _Opening doors, paying for his meals…_ He felt a bit like a lady enjoying the gallantry of a fine gentleman, which was what _he_ had always been expected to be, and experiencing it from this angle was confusing him! But not in an unpleasant way.

It suddenly came to Hatter’s attention that there were people behind them waiting, so he steered Hare away, finding him to be quite sturdy but fluid -- having no resistance to being touched or redirected. “Alright, alright, alright… We’re holding up the line,” he said, trying to suppress his amusement once again. He was fun to watch, and fun to shove around.

& & &

Fun to be around, and fun to eat with, too. Hatter liked that he made no secret of how much he was enjoying the chili-cheese fries, because _damnit they were good!_ Sounds needed to be made about these sorts of things!

As they scarfed away, Hare asked him more questions, so Hatter told him about his sister, and about the house almost being on fire two weeks ago, and what sort of directions he wanted to take his art. He was very disappointed he hadn’t brought his sketchbook today, because he would have shown him every page!

Except hold up: didn’t he have class?! He checked his watch. O-o-oh gosh, did he need to get MOVING! He stood up suddenly to brush the crumbs off his slacks and stretch his waistcoat nice and taut again. Hare seemed to know without speaking that Hatter’s haste was justified, which he appreciated, because the last thing he wanted to do was make him think he wanted to ditch him!

“This was really great!” He declared, already on the move! Hare was holding a stack of empty paper trays and sort of waving.

“Yeah it was--uhh, HATTER! HATTER!”. His face went from listless to terrified all in a second, and Hatter realized it was because he’d almost walked into traffic at the nearest corner. _Christ!_ He swooped his arm out and grabbed hold of a street-lamp to pull himself back. “Crosswalk lights, Hatter! Wait for ‘em!”

He should listen to his crazy-haired traffic-cone-colored mom-friend, so he waited, and tipped his hat before he crossed. “I owe you one!” He insisted, walking backwards with the crowd.

Hare did a sort of gesture that probably meant “pay the hell attention to what you’re doing”, so he turned back around, keeping that glitter feeling inside to himself.


End file.
